


sorrow found me when i was young

by xombiebean



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Barely Legal, M/M, Pre-Series, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 18:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6339832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xombiebean/pseuds/xombiebean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Linc’s instructions are simple: lock the door to Linc’s room and do not let him out until his rut is over. But no matter where Michael goes, he cannot escape Linc—the wood smoke and metal scent that he normally finds comforting taunts him, and Linc’s groans echo throughout the apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sorrow found me when i was young

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flyingwide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingwide/gifts).



> not beta read. i've been staring at this for the past few months and between school and work, i just want to get this off my hands. all errors are mine. i have no idea how my dirty abo porn became so chaste and sweet.
> 
> huuuuuuuuuuuge thank you to flyingwide, the brightest star i know, and who threw this idea around with me and supported me and told me what their scents should be. i'm so glad i met you.

Linc can already feel the heat building and radiating throughout his body, and his mind feels dulled, like he's moving through molasses, thick and sweet and intoxicating. He doesn't even need to breathe deeply to smell Michael, so fresh and sweet, like the peaches they bought from a stand on the side of the road that one summer when they had to get the hell out of dodge, mixed with the intoxicating scent of a rainstorm rolling in. He wants to claim Michael and mark him, come all over him and rub it into his skin, so that every other alpha will know Michael belongs to him. Michael is lying on the couch, reading a book innocuously, as if he hasn't noticed Linc’s impending rut, but Linc can see that Michael’s half hard in his pants, and oh god, Linc wants to pull his pants down and take him right there, right now. He wants to mar his beautiful collarbones with hickeys and leave hand prints on his hips and make him cry—

“Michael,” Linc says, and Michael’s head snaps up. Words are getting harder by the minute, and Michael’s eyes are so entrancing, so knowing, that Linc feels laid bare, all of his desires hanging heavy between them, unspoken. “You can’t—I don’t want you in there with me,” he manages to spit out, and Michael’s face crumples. His expression is gone in a heartbeat, smoothed over and hidden away, but Linc wishes he could take the words back. It’s excruciating; he wants to be with his omega, show Michael how much he’s wanted, fuck that hot tight hole until Michael can't come anymore, but he doesn’t—he can’t trust himself.

Michael opens his mouth to say something, and Linc cuts him off before he can get the words out. “It's not safe, Michael," he says. "I won't be in my right mind. I can't protect you."

“You would never hurt me,” Michael says.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Michael says immediately, no hesitation, and Linc laughs a little hollowly. Michael’s always had more faith in him than Linc has in himself—too much faith for a shitty older brother and a shittier alpha.

 

*   *   *

 

Linc’s instructions are simple: lock the door to Linc’s room and do not let him out until his rut is over. But no matter where Michael goes, he cannot escape Linc—the wood smoke and metal scent that he normally finds comforting taunts him, and Linc’s groans echo throughout the apartment. Michael wants to curl up and cry. His alpha doesn't want him there during his rut. He feels hollow and unsteady, like a house of cards ready to fall over at the slightest movement. The book he was reading before Linc went into heat lies abandoned, and Michael has no desire to pick it up and try to make sense of it when every part of him aches for his alpha.

Michael curls up in front of the door to Linc’s bedroom, hugging his knees to his chest, while he listens to his brother’s groans and imagines him angrily jerking off. All Michael wants is Linc’s cock, filling him up and making him whole, and he has to dig his nails into the palms of his hands to dull the force of his want. Linc told him not to open that door, and Michael must obey his alpha, no matter how much it hurts him. 

He’s hard in his pants, just from listening to Linc through the door, and the thought of his wantonness fills him with shame—so easy, so desperate for his alpha’s cock, even when his alpha doesn’t want him. He squeezes himself through his pants and whines, and all the sound on the other side of the door stops.

“Michael,” Linc says, low and dangerous and full of unspoken promise.

Just Linc’s voice alone lights him up like a livewire, and he can’t help but pop the button on his jeans and unzip it and finally, finally get his hands on his cock.

“Yeah, that’s good, Mike,” Linc breathes and Michael moans, smearing the precome on the tip of his dick and jerking himself gently. “I want you to do something for me,” he says, and Michael’s stomach jerks.

“Anything,” Michael breathes, and Linc’s low chuckle makes his stomach drop out.

“I need—fuck yourself for me?” Linc asks, raising the inflection at the end, and even though it sounds like a question, there’s nothing hesitant or unsure about it. Not that Michael would even think about disobeying him.

“Just—hold on,” Michael says, pushing himself off the ground onto unsteady legs. Linc growls out his name as Michael moves away, but he can't stop, can't breathe, can't give Linc a chance to take his words back. Everything feels surreal, like a fever dream, and it seems like an infinity for Michael to grab the cheap lotion in the bathroom and curl up next to Linc's bedroom door, shucking off his pants and boxer briefs along the way. 

He squeezes some lotion onto his hand and coats his fingers with it, before just lightly tracing the edges of his hole, just around and around, where his skin starts to pucker, teasing himself with a slick finger. It's not enough, and he presses against his hole, sliding just the tip of his finger in, and oh _fuck_. It's different and too much and not enough, and he whines as he presses in deeper.

“That’s good, Mike,” Linc says, and his voice is deeper and rougher than Michael’s ever heard it before. “Real good.”

Michael whines and pulls his finger out and slides in two, and he’s too tight, it’s too much, but he wants more, wants to show Linc how good he can be. He gasps as he tries to get used to the feeling and thinks about how much bigger Linc’s dick is than Michael’s two fingers; it would split him wide, stuff him full, and Michael wants it so bad that it hurts to breathe. Each breath reminds him of how awkward and fumbling his own fingers are, and he pulls them out and slicks them up again with lotion and presses in, curling them up, until he skirts a spot that makes his spine light up white hot and his hips twist with need, his body instinctively trying to get more of the sensation. “Linc,” he groans out, as he chases that spark of electricity, desperate for another hit, but it’s ever so slightly out of his reach, and the angle is all wrong, and he needs—Linc would know what to do. Linc would know exactly what he needs. “ _Please_ ,” he says, near incoherently, but Linc understands him. He always does.

“I know,” Linc says, and Michael almost sobs. “Touch yourself,” Linc says, and Michael obeys—it only takes the lightest touch and he’s coming, gasping for air, and he hears Linc choke out, “Fuck, Michael,” and lose it to a groan and Michael can hear the fast slick wet sounds of Linc jerking himself at a ruthless pace on the other side of the door. All he can smell is sex mingled with Linc’s inescapable scent of wood smoke and old metal so strong that it tastes like blood in his mouth. Michael curls up closer to the door, sticky with come and lotion, because it’s the closest he’s going to get to Linc in his rut, and he needs to be next to him, wants to be skin to skin so there are no barriers between them. He wants and he wants and he wants, but he can’t open that door. Linc told him it wasn’t safe.

Michael falls asleep curled up against the door, wearing only a shirt, listening to Linc panting as he chases a sensation that he can’t truly satisfy alone.

 

*   *   *

 

Michael wakes up, slow and indolent, drenched in warmth, and finds Linc leaning over him, his eyes so soft and fond that Michael can’t hold his gaze, curling towards him and tucking his face against Linc’s chest. He isn’t wearing a shirt, and the warmth of his bare skin is comforting and intoxicating, and Michael doesn’t want to be anywhere else. He just wants for this moment to stretch into eternity, to feel safe and warm and small and protected forever. Linc brushes a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

“How’re you feeling?” Linc rumbles, his voice thick and deep with the lingering remnants of sleep.

“Good,” Michael says, his voice muffled against his chest, his lips moving against his skin as his mouth forms the word.

“Mmm,” Linc says, and the sound rumbles through his chest, making Michael smile. Linc’s running a hand along Michael’s back, rubbing idle circles down his spine. Michael gives into the sensation, and sinks into Linc’s embrace. “You did good, Michael,” he says, and it feels so natural, so easy, for Michael to pull back slightly, cross the distance between them, and kiss him. Linc freezes against Michael, although the kiss is chaste, just a brief press of lips together.

“I trust you,” Michael says, and Linc’s face shutters. All of the open warmth and emotion is guarded behind a troubled expression. He opens his mouth to say something, but Michael cuts him off before he can get a word out. “I’m going to college and I won’t be back home for a while . . . I need—let me—” He can’t finish saying it, can’t get the words out of his throat. He won’t see Linc for months, and Michael wants to carry a reminder of him with him. He wants Linc to etch his scent in his skin, mark him so thoroughly that no other alpha looks twice at him. “ _Linc_ ,” Michael says, and Linc breaks and surges towards him, kissing him hard and nipping at his lips. The kiss is hungry and desperate, and Michael can’t get enough; he rolls onto his back, taking Linc with him, so that he’ll be blanketed by his strong, solid body.

Immediately, instinctively, Linc repositions himself to prevent Michael from carrying his weight, and grinds his hips against Michael’s. He lets out a groan as Michael gasps out his name, and licks his own palm and wraps it around their cocks. Michael arches into the touch, and his entire world narrows down to Linc: his hot body on top of him, his hand on their cocks, his mouth on Michael’s neck. For once, he stops thinking, his brain slows down to this single moment, and he is overwhelmed by the hot slick wet heat of Linc’s cock against his own.

Michael comes with Linc sucking a bruise high up on his neck, and Linc follows him down, spurting come all over his torso.

“I love you,” Linc says.

“I know,” Michael tells him, the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips.


End file.
